Michelle was halfway through Saturday morning laundry duty when her phone buzzed.
Mom:We're in town. Thought we'd surprise you. Brunch in 30? Dad's craving those cinnamon rolls you always talk about.
Her stomach dropped. She hadn't told them about Steve.
Not because she was hiding him—but because nothing had felt certain until now. And maybe, deep down, a part of her was scared they wouldn't understand.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked later, watching her nervously fold the same sweatshirt three times.
Michelle bit her lip. "My parents are here. They want to have brunch. In thirty minutes."
"Oh," Steve said, trying to sound casual. "And... do they know about me?"
She hesitated. "No. But I want them to."
He smiled softly. "Then let's go meet them."
They met at a cozy café off campus. Michelle's mom stood and wrapped her in a tight hug while her dad gave her a warm smile.
"This is Steve," Michelle said quickly, her voice a little too high. "My... boyfriend."
Steve extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Evans."
There was a beat of silence.
Then her mom smiled. "So this is the boy you've been blushing over on the phone."
Michelle groaned. "Mom."
Her dad chuckled. "Relax, sweetheart. We're just happy to see you smiling."
Brunch turned out better than expected.
Steve was kind, respectful, even a little funny—something Michelle rarely saw when he was nervous. He talked about school, basketball, and how he and Michelle met.
At one point, Michelle caught her mom watching them, a knowing smile on her face.
Later, as they walked out, her mom pulled her aside.
"He's different," she said.
Michelle nodded. "Yeah. He's... everything."
Her mom squeezed her hand. "Just be sure you're protecting your heart. But don't be afraid to let it be loved either."
Michelle swallowed the lump in her throat.
That night, curled on the couch with Steve, she told him everything.
About how her parents always expected her to be the strong one. How she sometimes hid things just to keep the peace. How falling in love scared her because it meant losing control.
Steve didn't say much—he just held her.
And sometimes, that's all she needed.
Not words.Just presence.Just someone who stayed.